


You Are Mine

by Sinderlin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Sex, Frottage, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinderlin/pseuds/Sinderlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a request fill B) remember i take requests at nsfw-sin.tumblr.com<br/>yandere and angry sex gonna get toned up in ch2 dw</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

McCree had begun to suspect that something was wrong with Hanzo. Well, there was something wrong with _all_  of them, but this was different. Even before they’d gotten together he’d noticed that there was something different about Hanzo, but he’d liked it. It had nothing to do with his aloof demeanor or his elegance on the battlefield(although he had to admit that was pretty great in its own right), but rather with the way Hanzo responded to his attention. They’d formed a sort of positive feedback loop somewhere along the line. The more McCree spoke with Hanzo, the more he could feel Hanzo’s eyes on him even when they weren’t speaking.

-

At first, Hanzo had been a distant, quiet, stoic figure, but he’d transitioned quickly from stranger to a friend he could share drinks with and have shooting competitions with in the dead of night when neither of them could sleep. Even in the field, Hanzo had grown steadily more reliable, catching any soldier sneaking up on McCree before he even noticed them. When Hanzo finally let down his last defences and cracked a smile at one of McCree’s jokes, half-hidden behind a cup of warm shochu, McCree almost cried at the sting of cupid’s arrow piercing him.

He’d gotten used to hitting up bars off base during downtime, but he’d noticed a sharp decline in the number of people he was able to either slip home or slip into an alley with once he’d befriended Hanzo. Even through a thick haze of alcohol, he clearly remembered almost every recent encounter being cut short by the archer butting in with a curt, chiding comment and being dragged back to base by his ear. He definitely protested that Jack had no problems with it, but Hanzo continued to drag him back until one particular night.

McCree had actually managed to be dragged out by someone other than Hanzo that night, shit-eating grin on his face when he realized Hanzo hadn’t cockblocked him yet. It wasn’t as fun just unloading by himself back at base, so he planned to make the most of this opportunity. One hand snaking up the stranger’s shirt, he fumbled with his belt one-handed and lapped the flavor of watery bourbon off their lips. A cloud of roiling lust in his gut flared as his buckle clinked aside, skin prickling with heat. Distant laughter from the bar and conversation from the street echoed in his ears alongside the wet pull of sloppy kisses and scratching of zippers.

The hairs on the back of his neck barely prickle with awareness before a hand clamps around his nape and yanks him backward. The world wobbles dangerously, a blurred vision of Hanzo snarling at his would-be lay floating in front of him as he stumbles. He sees Hanzo throw his hand out toward the street like he’s stabbing the air with his index finger, hears a low flurry of curses and threats. His whiskey-soaked brain is telling him that Hanzo’s a real killjoy, but his round, plump pec would feel just as nice in his palm as that other guy’s.

“Hey, c’mon, whawazzat for?” McCree slurs, eyes wandering between Hanzo’s scowl and his exposed chest. His lips are still swollen and tingling, tongue too thick for his own mouth. His fingers itch at his sides, twitching involuntarily.

“This conduct is unfitting of an agent of Overwatch,” Hanzo explains entirely unconvincingly. Sniffing in disdain and glancing toward where the long-gone stranger had scampered away, he frowns and remarks, “I did attempt to prevent you from causing mischief.”

“Yer jealous,” McCree says without missing a beat. He grins when Hanzo’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. Hanzo’s hips feel nice and firm under his hands, skin warm beneath the fabric. One hand is already skating up bare skin chilled by night air, aiming to cup the bulge of muscle at his chest, when Hanzo’s jaw finally clicks shut and a fist curls into his messy mop of hair.

The hand tugs him away before he can press their lips together, leaving McCree to whine ineffectually. The slurry of his brain fails to notice that he didn’t deny his claim for a full minute, but when he does it’s his turn to gawk in surprise. While he’s processing it, Hanzo quickly turns McCree around and jams him into the dirty brick of the alley wall. A hush of silk barely reaches his ears through the din, but the cool feeling of it looping over his wrists definitely reaches him. His booze-clumsy limbs wiggle while Hanzo ties it off, alarm slowly trickling into his brain.

“Whatcha doin’? Hanzo? Yer-What’re ya doin’?” McCree slurs, peering over his shoulder at the hot glare of irritation in his friend’s eyes. Muscle twitches over Hanzo’s jaw, lips drawn into a thin line. Then his teeth are bared, bright white in the light, hand back in his hair-lifting it out of the way and pushing his face harder into the wall-and pressure spreads over his nape. Pain begins to bloom in two curved lines, canines threatening to break skin.

“Do not make such actions unless you are prepared for the consequences,” Hanzo growls lowly into his ear, “Do not tempt me unless you intend to become mine.” Somehow the possessive glint in his eyes brings all the blood right back to McCree’s forgotten erection and sucks the moisture right out of his mouth. It might be the alcohol dumbing him down, but he kind of wants to suck Hanzo’s dick right about now.

“Okay,” he slurs, the ache of ages without any action(thanks to Hanzo’s cockblocking) urging his friend’s bones right in this alley. Rolling his hips back, he grinds into the surprisingly large bulge hidden beneath Hanzo’s loose pants and sighs in relief. Grit from the wall sticks to his face as he’s pulled back and spun around. Hanzo looks angry. He also looks...hungry.

“Speak clearly,” he demands, pupils encroaching on the outer edge of his iris.

“‘M yers,” McCree grins, rolling his stiff shoulders back and jutting his hips forward. Hanzo’s breath hitches and his face floods with color, fingers dancing over the edge of his boxers like hot coals. Instead, he goes in for McCree’s lips, smashing a hard kiss in and tugging his already-tender lip between his teeth. Slender, calloused fingers scrape his shirt up and dig hard into the softness at his waist.

McCree can nearly feel his heartbeat in his tongue as Hanzo flicks against it with his own, pressing closer and closer until bricks are scratching his back and Hanzo’s chest is flush against his own. He’s being devoured, he realizes, by a hungry, possessive dragon. Hanzo must just not have been able to stand seeing anyone else taking his friend and crush home. Something warmer than the burn of whiskey rises in his chest.

Hands guide McCree’s hips further forward, forcing him to lean back hard against the lumpy wall. He’s about to complain when a leg slips between his thighs and a hot, hard line presses against his hip. Hanzo rocks against him, forcing a moan out of him instead, and growls into his mouth. He wants to grab at Hanzo but his hands are tied behind his back and show no sign of giving no matter which way he turns or tugs his wrists. It just annoys Hanzo, who bites his lip hard as punishment and sucks away the spilt drop of blood.

“Pants,” McCree wheezes breathlessly, bucking.

“No,” Hanzo hums, panting into his beard and grinding into him eagerly, “We do it like this.” Kinky, McCree thinks dumbly. Hanzo digs one hand roughly into the back of his pants, grabbing his bare ass and tucking his head under McCree’s chin to nip at his neck.

Tilting his head to the side, McCree dimly notices a few glances from the mouth of the alley. They’re going to regret this in the morning, he’s sure, but he really doesn’t want to stop. Rolling his hips, he makes eye contact with the gawking strangers and manages a crooked smile. The gentle, constant pressure and friction on his groin coupled with the tender nibbles on his throat fog his brain further, leaving him vulnerable to the harsh chomp Hanzo delivers.

“Look at me,” Hanzo orders with dark eyes, nails digging into his skin. McCree blinks the blur of tears out of his eyes and nods, panting hard. Dully, he noted the throb between his thighs and the whine still leaking from his lips. Hanzo lifted the leg between his thighs and rocked, grunting with a grimace. The heavy roll of his balls against the meat of Hanzo’s thighs made McCree’s head spin, arms twitching uselessly behind him. He wanted to grab Hanzo so badly-He needed to grab him, push him down, fuck his brains out, suck him off, anything-he needed something, anything-more, more, /more/.

“Hanzo,” he whines, mouth watering dangerously, “Please, lemme-let’s-” Hanzo cuts him off by smashing their mouths together. He feels Hanzo’s pulse against his hip through the grinding of fabric on fabric. Wetness blurs his vision as the intensity of the hard grinding starts to become too much. He’s certain he’s getting rug burn on his dick.

Hanzo’s hips snap against his, losing rhythm as his grunts get deeper and his breaths become shallow. His eyelids flutter and shut hard against the tidal wave of pleasure, teeth gritted to stifle his moaning. McCree moans in sympathy, tears beading at the corners of his eyes as he desperately tries to cum even as Hanzo pulls back grinning like a devil.

“Nonono, please, come back,” McCree babbles breathlessly, hips bucking at heated empty air, “I gotta-Please, Hanzo!” Hanzo shifts his hand around from its deathgrip on his ass and rubs the throbbing cock drooling pre in McCree’s boxers. McCree nearly sobs in relief, humping Hanzo’s hand desperately until his cock pulses in his underwear, utterly ruining them.

Tutting, Hanzo rubs him through the last twitches of pleasure and pulls his hand out, wiping it on his jeans. His own silky pants are sporting a dark stain against one thigh, slight bulge still not quite relaxed from the grinding. That same small smile is on his face, half-hidden in the dark, and his dark eyes are glittering. The silk scarf comes away with a quick tug and a few deft twists of Hanzo’s hands, then it’s back up in his hair like always. Maybe Hanzo is cupid and it’s his arrow that’s twisting ever deeper, McCree thinks.

“So, uh. Where...Where do we go from here?” McCree asks as he puts his belt back on.

“To base,” Hanzo says, giving a satisfied sigh. He gives McCree a once-over and nods to himself, apparently pleased with the love-bites covering his neck and the large damp spot in his jeans.

“I mean-Are we datin’? Izzat whatcha meant?” McCree tries again, following Hanzo as he walks to the mouth of the alley. Hanzo turns and gives him a queer look, brows pinched ever so slightly, backlit by streetlights.

“We agreed that you are mine now,” Hanzo states simply before walking back onto the street as if there wasn’t an obvious cum stain on his pants. McCree sighs and follows after him, a little worried about what he’s gotten himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Hanzo didn’t mention anything about the previous night’s events, but his eyes barely seem to leave McCree all morning. Their eyes met as his lips closed around his chopsticks and Hanzo’s gaze wavered, flicking away almost in shyness. Damn cute for such a carnivore, McCree thought as he hefted his breakfast tray and slid into the seat across from his…lover, he guessed.

“Just rice? You sure that’s enough?” He asked Hanzo while sawing into a slice of hamsteak. A pair of sunny-side up eggs stared up at him glossily, hamsteak smile messily chopped into slices in under a minute.

“Yes, I tend not to eat heavy foods in the morning,” Hanzo replied with a tinge of amusement, “And there is also furikake on it.” His water glass clinked against his teeth as he took a sip, tapping softly on the table as he set it back down.

“Dunno what that is,” McCree stated, stuffing a slice of ham into his cheek and popping open one of the wet yellow eyeballs on his plate and smearing a second slice through the golden pool goo.

“Seasoning for rice,” Hanzo explained plainly, scooping up another pile of rice while steadying the bowl with his free hand. The faint stubble on his neck caught McCree’s eye as his adam’s apple smoothed up and down with his swallow.

“So…Maybe not the best time for it, but we need to have a, uh, chat,” McCree paused with his fork dug into another slice of ham, digging a strand of meat out from between his teeth with his tongue, ”About last night. I’m still not really clear about what all that there means about _us_ , y’see what I mean?” He popped the ham into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, washing it down with a swig of orange juice.

“Hé?” Hanzo’s brows knit and his chopsticks pause midway through another journey to his mouth, a clump of rice comically dropping to the table. Eyes dropping to follow the rice, his lips drew to a thin line.

“What, bad place, bad timing?” McCree asked, snorting at the frustrated stare Hanzo was giving his lost clump of rice, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Look, I get it, but I still think we need to talk about it.”

“No,” Hanzo blurted, head snapping up, “I mean…I do not know what you are talking about.” Taken aback, McCree just stared as Hanzo tipped his bowl back against his lips and shovelled the remaining rice down. Hanzo barely offered a soft “Excuse me” before his chair screeched against the tile and he was off to deposit his bowl in the wash station.

Whether Hanzo legitimately didn’t remember(maybe he’d been drunk too, even though he’d sounded so sober and sharp) or was just avoiding the subject out of shame(even though he’d been so dominating and self-assured during), McCree felt hurt by the way he was being avoided all day. Sure, it must be awkward and embarrassing to have something like that brought up even if he _did_  remember, but it wasn’t fair to just cut him off like that given how well they’d been getting along recently. He was starting to get half a mind to just forget about last night’s events in the hopes that maybe they could get back to being good friends again, but the hickeys and bite mark shaped bruises still fresh on his neck made it hard–difficult–to really consider.

The next few days passed in much the same way, with his bruises fading as he managed to shove the strange hookup further and further down into his memories as Hanzo and he slowly but surely slipped back into their usual friendship. Their usual friendly shooting competitions down on the range resumed along with their friendly banter and Hanzo’s cover-fire on the battlefield. The tiny smile McCree had come to hope for glances of like it was some kind of cryptozoological creature made a surprise appearance during one of his particularly stupid jokes and he felt a stinging pain in his heart and a squeeze in his throat that made his voice crack. Shame bubbled up faster than he could tamp it back down, and he had to excuse himself to his room to keep his composure.

Aside from momentary falters like that, though, they were well on their way back to where they were before. McCree was still desperately in love, but that was fine. If Hanzo didn’t want to talk about what had happened, or didn’t remember, or just didn’t want there to _be_  a “them”, that was fine. He wasn’t the type to force things. It was satisfying enough to be back at the center of Hanzo’s attention on and off the battlefield. Well, maybe not satisfying for his libido…

He ended up back at the bar before he knew it, making excuses to himself as he slid onto the barstool and opened up a tab with a scotch. Hopefully Hanzo wouldn’t show up and block his attempts to get laid like usual tonight, McCree mused and took a sip, or maybe hopefully he would. His eyes drifted to the doors of dingey little bar, half-expecting Hanzo to walk in and drag him out by the ear like always right that second. For better or worse, there was no sign of Hanzo even as he finished off his third drink and scanned his prospects.

He’d settled on a nice dark-haired stranger with an easy smile and rough hands and purchased a pair of shots when he heard the door squeak open. Familiar colors spread over an equally familiar silhouette slipped into his peripheral vision, hair on his neck prickling as piercing eyes raked over him. Even so, they said nothing, so McCree put on a winning grin and sat opposite his chosen target for the night and gave him the shot and a wink. After the initial expected flustered response, conversation and alcohol flowed easily and he half-expected he’d really get taken home.

Although he hadn’t paid attention to it before-too focused on getting drunk to focus on the flavor-he noticed that whatever he was drinking just tasted like fire. There was nothing else to it, just pain and an unpleasant tingling in his gut. The peanuts at the table tasted stale and undersalted, hard to stomach between the crappy drinks and distracting awareness of his would-be lover not too far away drinking the same shitty swill.

Keeping his signature smile was becoming increasingly hard while staring into strange blue eyes when he’d rather be looking into brown ones, rather be drinking his own scotch or some of Hanzo’s damn near fruity sake, would rather be getting his _satisfaction_  with the person he realized he loved than just some guy, but Hanzo hadn’t wanted to talk about “them”. Hanzo didn’t want to think about “them”, so here he was, chatting up a stranger in a crappy bar.

But Hanzo had come anyway. Why? Glancing over, Hanzo appeared to be unashamedly staring him down from across the bar, watching and waiting. Was he just waiting to stomp over and drag McCree home even after making it clear he wasn’t interested in him _like that_? Maybe he’d show some interest if he just played it like last time. “You are mine” my ass, McCree scowled inwardly and turned back to his conversation with the stranger.

A few more drinks and a few more jokes in, he had the stranger damn near wrapped around his finger. He even got a few sultry looks and a smooch in over the table before he was being dragged outside by his collar-(un)fortunately, not by Hanzo. One last backward glance caught an image of Hanzo clutching his glass with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. Good, McCree scoffed, be angry.

Back here again, he thought as he was pushed up against the alley wall with a hand on his hip and another on his jaw guiding him into a drunken kiss. The blue eyes looked mercifully muddied in the darkness of the alley, allowing his mind to wander further than the hands exploring his body. The rough hands felt almost right, but their chest was a little too flat and their stomach wasn’t as firm. That was fine, the hips were about right. He dug his fingers in and sighed, tipping his head back to allow drifting kisses access to his throat. Cold air brushed his chest as his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, pulling out gooseflesh and shivers.

“This again? Do you wish to anger me?” Came a familiar voice from the mouth of the alley. A quick glance confirmed that it was probably Hanzo given his silhouette backlit by the streetlights.

“Um, am I-Are you guys-?” The blue-eyed stranger froze with his hands still halfway down to McCree’s ridiculous belt-buckle.

“It’s complicated,” McCree sighed, hands dropping to his sides defeatedly.

“I’m-I’m gonna go,” He muttered, glancing at Hanzo.  
“Do,” Hanzo encouraged, voice dropping into a growl. As they scuttled past like a scared sea creature, Hanzo bared his teeth and locked eyes with an infinitely tired gunslinger. Filling the gap, Hanzo dug a hand into McCree’s hair and sneered, “Did you forget our agreement?”

“You dodged me th’next morning and acted like it never happened, what was I s’posed to think?” McCree grumbled, sourly following the tug against his scalp. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the familiar feel of teeth on his neck sent sparks of pleasure down his spine.

“You may think whatever you like, but you agreed to be mine,” Hanzo hissed, ripping the half-unbuttoned shirt the rest of the way open and jerking McCree’s face back when he glanced toward the scattering buttons with a huff of ‘aw hell’. Hanzo clutched McCree’s face hard in his free hand, thumb pressing into the hollow of his cheek. “I suppose I did not teach you what it means to be mine thoroughly enough.”

Protests muffled by the hand crushing his jaw in place, McCree squinted as one hand left his hair and raked down his neck, nearly drawing blood as the nails dug into his collarbone. The touch lightened as his fingers brushed over his stomach, dancing almost lovingly across twitching muscles. His eyes flicked away as the fingers curled over his buckle, whimpered when they harshly yanked at it, popping the clasp and shoving it aside. A button popped and the rasp of a zipper reached his ears, vibrations echoing in the weak twitching of his dick.

“You are my possession, to do with as I like, where I like,” Hanzo explained, “I do not like other people touching my things.” His mouth replaced his hand over McCree’s lips, warm, soft skin drawing out a satisfied sigh in spite of the tense atmosphere. Fingers dug through his front pocket, glancing against his cock teasingly before withdrawing with his lube and condom. Hanzo pulled away sharply. The glare of distant streetlights danced in his eyes, making them hot coals of jealous rage, and his teeth glinted ice white when he sneered.

“Listen,” McCree started and was cut off by a harsh shush, teeth clicking as he closed his mouth. A thumb tucked into his waistband and shoved hard enough that the scrape of denim forced out a whine.

“I’m going to fuck you,” an unexpectedly even tone came from that sneering mouth, “And teach you who you belong to.”

McCree was suddenly near naked in an alley beside a relatively well-trafficked street and an open bar, being tugged away from the wall and into the most vicious kiss he’d had in years. Shame lit a fire low in his stomach, tingling in his groin as pain bloomed across his mouth. Teeth aching from the harsh clacking and presses of tongue and lips, he simply opened himself to the assault, accepting the roughness welcomely.

Conflicting emotions distracted from the waves of pleasure washing over him, threatening to break the spell. He almost wanted to push Hanzo off, but…He’d fallen hard for this weird fuck, he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, and he was sort of getting into whatever the hell kind of play this was. The feeling of a hard dick once again pressed into his thigh, separated from bare skin by silk, sent blood rushing from his head and left him a dizzy wreck leaning hard into the warm chest below. The muscle felt as firm yet plush as always, Hanzo’s nipple standing at attention when he snuck his hand up to run his palm over it.

He barely has time to register the hand pressing into his own chest before he’s stumbling over the pants around his ankles and tipping backward. Hanzo disappears from sight as the ground rushes up to meet him, slamming the air out of his lungs and throwing a few chunks of gravel up. Mercifully, he seems to have avoided a concussion. He’s about to roll over and get up, cussing under his breath, when Hanzo abruptly drops his ass onto McCree’s stomach and grabs his face with both hands.

“Down in the trash where you belong.” A derisive laugh slips out of a wide smirk, blurred in McCree’s eyes by pain. He’s about to protest when Hanzo ducks in for more kissing, hands planted on either side of his head while he shifts and slips between McCree’s knees, hiking them up over his hips. The click of the lube’s cap coming off is lost under the hush of fingers skating across McCree’s stomach, exploring his body from his hips to his collar bones. The pain and tender touches mix into an addictive sensation that goes straight to McCree’s dick.

“Hanzo,” McCree whimpered, cock throbbing as fingers drag through the thickening hair below his belly-button, “Please…” He doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking for at this point. It’s degrading to be pushed down and fucked in an alley with crushed beer cans and cardboard boxes littering the ground–and is that a used condom over there?–but it feels _right_. Hanzo sat back on his heels and held up his hand as he drizzled lube over his fingers, tutting.

“Patience,” Hanzo whispered, smiling almost kindly as the strings of lube glittering between his fingers broke and ran down his palm. The lube clicked closed and disappeared as Hanzo lowered both hands to McCree’s crotch, one hand pulling his heated sack aside and the lube-soaked one slipping still lower to run warm, slick fingers between his cheeks. McCree whimpered and twisted his hips, swallowing hard as the strange sensation eased with the distracting squeeze of his balls in Hanzo’s other hand.

“Shit,” He breathed, “That’s good, keep-Do that.” Alcohol was making it hard to say what he wanted, but Hanzo got the message anyway. He kneaded at McCree’s balls while dipping his fingers into his hole, slowly working him open with plying words and distracting pleasure. Whenever he clenched, Hanzo stopped on both ends, forcing McCree to relax and open himself up to receive any kind of attention.

If McCree hadn’t made a habit of playing with himself in just about every way when he actually _did_  get off solo, the fast pace might’ve been something to worry about. As it was, he just moaned and bucked his hips when two fingers hooked in deep, pads rubbing into his prostate. Hanzo rewarded the eager reaction with a particularly hard press and a firm squeeze of his balls, grinning at the way McCree rocked back into the pressure.

“I don’t think we need this,” Hanzo breathed, tossing aside the condom he’d snagged from McCree’s pocket earlier. He pressed in a third finger and spread them wide, staring down at the reddened muscle fighting against the urge to clamp down on the intruding fingers. The thought of their first time together being bareback made McCree shiver and spread his legs wider. The slurp of his fingers being pulled out burned in his ears almost as bad as the soft squish of him pressing his cockhead in.

Swallowing down the urge to moan, McCree rested his hands on Hanzo’s hips as they slowly but surely came flush with his own. His insides burned with the stretch and he could feel Hanzo’s heartbeat in his dick, hard and fast against his tender walls. A hand once again settled over one of his love-handles, fingertips pressing firmly in. The other settled over his chest, denting the muscle as he leaned in hard and lowered himself to lock lips with McCree again.

Hanzo started slow at first, rocking his hips in place to let the low heat build between them until their lips had to part to pull in air. The drag of his cock against McCree’s insides lit a fire inside him that made his hips ache and his dick drool, thighs twitching with the urge to buck. His lips were already beginning to swell with the pull of sucking kisses dragging blood in, tongue beginning to ache from pushing and pulling and rubbing and the scrape of teeth.

A thumb ground against his nipple, distracting him from the way Hanzo hiked his hips up again with a sharp shock of pleasure. When Hanzo drove back into him again, he gasped at how much deeper he slid, eyes watering. Throwing his arms around Hanzo’s shoulders, he hissed out a plea to go harder-he wasn’t some porcelain doll.

“As you wish,” Hanzo growled hotly, dipping down to suck a dark circle into his neck. Driving his hips against McCree’s ass, he shoved harder and deeper inside him, panting at the stroke of tight, hot wetness on his shaft. He hadn’t really let loose like this in ages…It felt good. Too good.

“More, please, s’good,” McCree huffed, glossy-eyed and lips shiny with drool, “Feels so good, darlin’, yer so-” Cut off by a guttural groan, McCree’s praise echoed in Hanzo’s ears. Dark brown eyes stared down at him in the darkness, clouded by lust and something else. The distant murmur of the people out on the street, the used condom in his peripheral vision, the gravel digging into his ass whenever Hanzo pulled too far back and let him drop, none of it seemed to matter.

All that mattered right now was that he was the total center of Hanzo’s attention, mental and physical. The possessive bites Hanzo was giving his shoulder while working hard to carve his shape into McCree’s ass made him think that maybe he liked belonging to Hanzo. A surprised grunt jumped from his lips when Hanzo wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking it to the time of his thrusts.

“Tell them who you belong to,” Hanzo panted hotly, burying his face in the crook of McCree’s neck and pistoning his hips, “let them know you’re mine.” Punctuated by biting into the meat of his shoulder, Hanzo desperately fucked into him with fingernails dug hard enough into his hip to draw blood. Thin, slippery pre-cum bubbled between his fingers as he furiously jacked him off, wetting his stomach as excess dripped away.

“Hh-Hanzo, shit-” McCree moaned, tipping his head back as he felt coils of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his stomach, threatening to snap if Hanzo pushed just a _little_  harder. His eyelids fluttered and shut as he did just that, the slap of skin on skin deafening in his hypersensitivity. His abdominals fluttered and clenched as his insides throbbed, cock jumping in Hanzo’s hand as streams of cum shot past his fingers. Choking back a moan that made his ribs vibrate, McCree arched his back and blinked away tears while Hanzo drooled against his shoulder and jackrabbitted away at his ass in a desperate sprint for the finish.

The twitch of balls against McCree’s ass signalled the finale, hot cum seeping in as Hanzo’s cock pulsed, buried inside him to the hilt. Dimly, he realized that Hanzo hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t even breathed while he was trying to cum. He relaxed(hadn’t even realized he hadn’t _been_  relaxed) when Hanzo breathed deep and sighed, working his teeth out of the bloody bite on his shoulder.

“That’s gonna leave one helluva mark,” McCree slurred, humming happily while Hanzo wrung the last drops of cum out of him. The slosh of cum inside as Hanzo pulled out with a slurp made him worry about the journey home. Oh well, he thought, not the first time he’d had to wash cum out of his pants.

“Good,” Hanzo huffed, surveying the mark. Once he seemed satisfied with what he saw, he glanced down at his softening dick and McCree’s raw, open hole, freshly fucked wide, and clicked his tongue. He rifled through his pockets for a moment before drawing out a tapered object with a stopper and popped it in the hole before McCree could protest. “I will not have you wasting my hard work.”

“Shit…Fine, just help…help me up,” McCree sighed, “And get dressed.” Hanzo smoothly tucked himself into his pants while getting up and out of the way, then offered his partner a hand and pulled him up. He surveryed the damage done to McCree’s shirt and gave a soft smile before helping him shuffle the pants back on. The shirt looked horrible even buttoned down as much as they could manage, but it’d have to do until they got back to base. As they were exiting the alleyway, he muttered “Can’t believe you brought a gotdamn buttplug” before he noticed the small crowd their antics had apparently gathered. “Shit.”

 

“I have figured out what has happened, and I am indescribably sorry,” Hanzo apologized, head bowed, McCree cornered in one of the recreation rooms he’d been lounging in, “I have to explain myself to you, I owe you that and much more. I am thoroughly ashamed of my actions and completely understand if you no longer wish to associate with me.” He looked up at McCree from under his lashes for a sign to continue.

“I admit it was, uh, not what I was expectin’ from you, but I have definitely dealt with worse in my lifetime,” McCree laughed, grinning down at him, “I sure would love to hear the explanation, though.” It had been a pleasant surprise to have been approached by Hanzo first the following morning, and an even better surprise to find out that he apparently had at least some idea of what he’d done. Hanzo visibly braced himself and took a deep breath.

“Date? You would be okay with that after what I have done?” Hanzo marvels, swallowing the lump of shame sticking in his throat.

“Look, don’t get uppity, but that was actually pretty hot,” McCree laughs, snorting at the blush creeping up Hanzo’s collar. “In all honesty, I wanted to date you for ages, so I’m happy to brush this under the rug or embrace it, whatever you want.”

“I see,” Hanzo breathes, relaxing at the lack of disgust or hate from McCree. “Then…We are now a couple.” He sounds less than confident when he declares it, but he smiles hard enough that his beautiful brown eyes crinkle at the edges and that’s all McCree cares about for the moment.


End file.
